


Hard as breathing

by Lacrymosa_91



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrymosa_91/pseuds/Lacrymosa_91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels like dying. Every single time.</p>
<p>Darkness is pressing at his temples, pounding in his head, filling his lungs. It drags him down slowly, relentlessly and he is sinking with eyes wide open and chest burning for oxygen. He does not kick, he does not move. He is numb, cold. He is freezing. His heart beats like a drum and the sound of it is deafening, maddening. The ache in his chest intensifies, grows heavier, crushes his ribs. </p>
<p>He does not scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard as breathing

It feels like dying.

Every single time.

Darkness is pressing at his temples, pounding in his head, filling his lungs. It drags him down slowly, relentlessly and he is sinking with eyes wide open and chest burning for oxygen. He does not kick, he does not move. He is numb, cold. He is freezing. His heart beats like a drum and the sound of it is deafening, maddening. The ache in his chest intensifies, grows heavier, crushes his ribs.

He does not scream. He cannot.

The abyss swallows him. There is only the darkness now and silence….thick, sticky, congealed like blood. He can smell it, taste it and it burns his tongue.

Waking up is always painful, his consciousness fighting to reach the surface, to push up from the bottom. His body convulses violently as his eyes snap open, throat tight, burning as if he's been screaming himself hoarse. The sheets are wrapped around his body, damp with sweat, tight and tangled around his thighs and ankles. He twists and jerks, choking on air, the pain in his shrinking lungs unbearable, blinding.

The only sounds he manages are broken, raspy gasps that tear at his chest. Hot tears roll down his cheeks and he grabs for the sheets, eyes flashing bright neon blue only to die out a second later when the pain smothers the shift within his body.

When fingers curl around his wrists he fights it. He always does. More out of an instinct than anything else. The sheets are untangled from his body, large warm hands grabbing at his hips, trying to make him stay still, to sooth him. The convulsions grow more violent, his back arching harshly.

"It's okay, Jacks. We are here, it's gonna be alright."

He sobs and it feels like his throat is being crushed.

Someone climbs in the bed with him, pulls him into their lap. Arms wrap around his middle, trying to coax his body to stop writhing. There is a wide, warm chest pressed against his back now and he shivers, his covered in cold sweat skin pricking at the contact.

"He is freezing." A deeper voice rumbles behind him, the words vibrating against his back, warm breath against his neck.

Another pair of hands slides up his thighs, stroking in slow soothing motions.

"I know it hurts. " Is whispered against his lips, forehead pressing against his. "I know how it feels like. "

Another convulsion, a painful gasp. Tears run down his neck, warm and salty against cold skin. Fingers entwine with his and he clutches hard, clings desperately, his whole body writhing.

"Don't fight it. Don't try to push it down. It will get worse. It will pull you deeper."

The voice is soft, yet firm just like the grip on his hips. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, drawing blood. He tries to distance himself from the crushing weight in his chest, from the iron clutch at his throat. The sound of two strong heartbeats invades his head and he forces himself to listen, to let it coat his senses.

"I need you to focus, Jackson." Scott whispers quietly. "I need you to listen to my voice." The fingers entwined with his squeeze lightly. "Can you do that?" He squeezes in return, knuckles white.

"Good boy." Is breathed against the side of his neck, the hands holding his hips moving to stroke his coiled stomach. He shivers again and Derek's lips press just behind his ear.

"I need you to follow, Derek. Breathe with him, Jackson. Let him lead you."

His legs are pushed apart when Scott moves closer, kneeling between his thighs. His fingers entwined with Jackson's, never letting go. Jackson forces himself to focus, to focus on the wide chest pressed against his back, instead of the hot needles piercing his lungs.

Time loses meaning.

Seconds, minutes, hours… everything is fragmented and yet blurred together. He stops fighting, stops trying to tear himself away from it. His world is filled with the sound of two heartbeats and the warmth of hands on his skin, with soft words whispered against his lips and pressed against the side of his neck.

Jackson breathes. His rib cage's frantic heaving growing slower, gradually falling in rhythm with the steady rise and fall of Derek's chest.

"That's it. Just like that. You are doing great."

The pain subsides to a dull pulsing in his temples and chest. He is still cold, shivering, covered in cold sweat. Every muscle in his body aches, as if he has been running a hundred miles. His breathing is heavy, loud in the quiet room as he feels his stiff shoulders relax.

It has been going on for months. Since he had woken up on the cement floor of a warehouse, since his eyelids had slid open to reveal a pair of neon blue eyes. Darkness keeps reaching up for him, pulling him down, choking him. He does not black out anymore, he has no master now. But he is not free.

His fingers are tingling, shaking as Scott finally lets got of his hands only to stroke his thighs again. Jackson sighs and slumps in Derek's arms.

Scott seems to understand better than anyone else. He does not ask questions, he does not need explanations. He knows.

It used to terrify Jackson, now he knows he wouldn't be able to pull through without him.

Derek is an entirely different thing, though. He is an enigma, a riddle which Jackson still tries to solve.  Jackson used to smell guilt on him before, pity and regret and it sickened him. Now it's different. It's something else, something more complex and deeper. Jackson has no name for that smell. It's thicker and heady, it rolls off him in waves. It sooths Jackson like nothing has ever had.

He feels boneless, barely clinging to consciousness, yet terrified of the thought of falling asleep again. They lower him on the bed again.  The comforting weight of Derek's hands on his hips disappears and Jackson's breath hitches, his heart stuttering.

"We are not leaving you, Jacks." Scott is immediately there, sensing his distress. And Jackson knows he reeks of fear, of need and panic but he cannot bring himself to care.

Scott's golden eyes glow in the pitch black darkness as they lie on their sides, facing each other, legs tangling together. Jackson sighs, hands fisting in the front of the other boy's shirt as he shifts closer.

He breathes. Deep and slow and loud and it almost makes him dizzy.

Derek's scent is strong in the stuffy room, drowning out and overpowering the stink of Jackson's fear.

He buries his face in Scott's neck, eyes falling closed as a muscular sinewy arm wraps possessively around his middle, the firm press of Derek's hard as granite body against his back making him whimper hollowly. It's a low, embarrassing sound that echoes in the heavy silence, making his cheeks burn and his stomach clench. Derek nuzzles the curve of his neck, stubble scratching against the soft skin there and Jackson lets out a heavy sigh, his body relaxing in the man's embrace. Scott pulls a blanket over the three of them, his lips pressing against Jackson's temple, his breath hot and moist against Jackson's skin.

Jackson lies awake for a while, eyes closed as every inhale fills his lungs with the warm smell, of earth and leaves, clinging to Scott's skin, with the strong intoxicating scent of Derek's body pressed against his. It smells familiar, warm, comforting.

It smells like something Jackson has never really had.

It smells like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is my first fic for the fandom and I am still trying to gain a feeling for the characters.  
> I am not a native speaker of English and I have no beta reader. All mistakes are mine.  
> I don't find the title very suitable but I couldn't come up with anything better. Feel free to give suggestions and opinions if you have something more suitable in mind. :)


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